


the beast upon your back

by aFigureOfSpeech



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aFigureOfSpeech/pseuds/aFigureOfSpeech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You’re just a kid,” she blurted, so shocked she forgot to train her crossbow properly. The oversight hardly mattered though, because it was true: rather than a fully grown werewolf, savage and deadly, all she found was a pale and scrawny boy, naked as the day he was born.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. am i free now

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon— _Traught Robin is a werewolf and Artemis is hunting him._ I’ll have you know, sweet anon, that this fic absolutely CONSUMED my brain. I hope to expand this at some point, but in the mean time here is my answer. Super special thanks to superblys for patiently answering my many questions about flesh wounds. Any accuracy with regards to the treatment of them is due to her, and all mistakes are my own. Please do point them out.
> 
> Disclaimer: Young Justice does not belong to me; I’m just here for the paranormal AUs apparently.

“Don’t let the other one escape!” her father screamed, but Artemis hesitated—the werewolf he was fighting was massive, inky black as the nightmares it was made of, and had proved alarmingly clever in the weeks they had spent tracking it. “Go!” he growled, not taking his eyes off the hulking, snarling beast in front of him; she turned and gave chase through the underbrush.

Behind her, there came a bone-chilling howl; Artemis ran faster.

Her watch read only a few minutes before sunup, but that was fine—the smaller were had been the one to trip their trap in the first place, and was leaving a blood trail a mile wide for her to follow. She would not fail.

The dark red splotches grew larger and closer together; she was getting close. Just as the first rays of the sun touched the leaves above her head, she found the creature tucked between the roots of a tree, only—

“You’re just a _kid_ ,” she blurted, so shocked she forgot to train her crossbow properly. The oversight hardly mattered though, because it was true: rather than a fully grown werewolf, savage and deadly, all she found was a pale and scrawny boy, naked as the day he was born. He couldn’t have been more than twelve.

It was definitely her wolf though—if the unnaturally glowing yellow eyes hadn’t given it away, the nasty gash on his left calf would have. She stood, torn. On the one hand, here was a monster just like any other she had spent her life hunting; on the other, here was a hurting child. She recognized her father’s handiwork, and it had to be beyond painful. Still, the kid made a show of it, growling weakly and crouching as though to lunge at her.

(If she were feeling honest, this was what finally made up her mind.)

(She never meant to hurt anyone.)

Slowly, making no sudden movements, Artemis unloaded her crossbow and lowered her weapon to the ground. She reached for the pouch at her belt, but stopped when he snarled, lips curling menacingly to reveal unsettlingly long canines.

“Look kid,” she said softly, in the same voice she used to coax alley cats with scraps of food. “I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but I want to help you okay? That wound isn’t going to treat itself.” As she spoke, she pulled out her emergency bandages, hoping it got across her intent.

For a few minutes they stood in stalemate, but even from seven feet away she could see his arms and legs trembling with the effort of it. Finally he collapsed, panting heavily, and she took that as her permission—though she remained alert, in case she was wrong. He eyed her distrustfully, but allowed her approach.

Carefully, she crouched down and touched his leg, trying to discern the extent of the damage. It was as bad as she’d thought, and more than she could treat properly with what she had on hand, but the least she could do was to stem the worst of it and try to prevent infection.

Artemis continued talking in the same tone of voice. “I’m going to wash it off and keep it clean, at least for a little while, and I can wrap it up tight.” With gentle hands, she brought his leg into her lap, soaking a cloth with her water bottle and pressing it to the wound. He hissed, but otherwise did not react; nor did he remove his direct, unwavering gaze from her person, flicking briefly to her hands before resting again on her face. Though his expression had turned less hostile, more curious, she was oddly unsettled, and directed him to hold the cloth down while she began fashioning a tourniquet with one of her arrows.

“What’s your name?” he asked, breaking the silence abruptly. Her hands paused in their work.

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yes,” he replied simply.

Well—in for the penny, in for the pound.

“It’s Artemis.” He snorted, and her temper flared; she glared at him. Of all the ungrateful little… “What, you think my name is funny?”

“No, I just think there’s a certain poetic irony in being hunted by the goddess of the moon, is all.”

“She’s the goddess of the hunt too, you know.” Her eyes slide sideways, and she began wrapping his leg. “And…the protector of children.”

He said nothing at first, but then:

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

Now it was Artemis’s turn to snort.

“I’m not actually a goddess, so no, that’s not it. But,” her fingers tightened without meaning to, “I couldn’t capture you. You’re just a kid.”

He growled again, but when she looked up sharply in alarm, his eyes danced playfully back at her—bright, robin-egg blue now, she noticed with a start, rather than gold. “I’ll have you know, I’m fourteen. Not a kid at all.” She raised a brow that spoke eloquently of her disbelief. “Okay,” he amended, “ _almost_ fourteen. But still. Definitely not a kid.”

This managed to draw a small but genuine smile from her, which made the wolf boy grin in reply, pleased with himself.

“And what’s your name, anyway?” she asked. She couldn’t just think of him as ‘wolf boy.’

His eyes grew intent again, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer at all.

“Richard,” he said finally. “I’m Richard. But…my friends call me Dick.”

Quietly, she tied off the bandages, checking to make sure everything was tucked and tight, and all around avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t know that we can be friends,” she told his leg.

“I think that we can, Artemis.” He placed his hand over hers; her eyes snapped to his face. Dick smiled, confident beyond all sense and reason. It made her want to believe him, against her own better judgment.

“Maybe someday, wolf boy,” she allowed, then helped him stand. He stumbled, but managed to stay upright. Still, it was cause for concern. “Will you be able to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Bruce will find me.”

Artemis assumed he meant the other werewolf, and privately, she had her doubts. Her dad was very good at his job.

She didn’t say that though.

“Head north—we’re camped in the opposite direction, and you need as much distance as you can get.”

He made no move to leave, eyes dark and serious suddenly. “Artemis, what will the other hunter do when he finds out you let me go?”

She kept her face carefully blank. “I’ll deal with him later.”

It seemed for a moment as though he wanted to say something else, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pursed; then he signed noisily and reached up on tip toes, pulling at her shoulder until he could press their cheeks together.

“Safe travels,” he said, rubbing gently. For a fragile spanse of time they stayed just like that, and she listened to the sound of his breaths. “I hope we meet again someday.”

“I hope we don’t,” she replied, smile brittle.

His smile, on the other hand, remained undimmed as he pulled back, and he winked at her before he turned and limped away, until he was just one more shadow slipping between the trees.

\-------

As it happened, this was not the last time she would see her wolf boy. Not by a longshot.

But in the meantime: she needed to speak with her father.


	2. called home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections, at the fork in the road. Gotham calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially continued! Holy shit guys, I haven't had a WIP in literally YEARS. So many years. Kind of nervous to do it now, but my brain just would not. shut. up. about this AU. So yeah. More to come. Enjoy.

Dick kept moving for as long as he was able, but eventually his legs threatened to give out completely. This time he took care to find a proper bolt hole, and waited for Bruce to sniff him out.

In the meantime, he tried to wrap his head around the fact that he was still alive at all. The hunter girl had clearly meant to kill him, and yet, she’d saved his life instead. She’d patched him up, and let him go, and just generally exhibited a level of compassion that he hadn’t thought humans, much less hunter-kind, capable of.

Bruce would tell him he trusted to easily, but it was clear to Dick that Artemis was special.

He hoped she was okay. That other hunter didn’t seem like the type to let a botched job slide. What was a girl like her doing with a guy like him anyway?  Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe he should have offered to take her away with them, like he’d wanted to. Bruce would take some convincing on that front, of course, but Artemis was certainly capable, and Dick _wanted_ to trust her. Badly. He wanted to see her again someday, too.

What if she really was in trouble? Should he have stayed with her? A lot of good he would have done her though, with a useless leg.

Suddenly, Bruce’s worried face came into view.

“Dick,” he breathed, reaching out a hand to help the boy stand then starting to inspect him. “How are you? Where are you hurt? How did you get away?”

Accustomed to Bruce’s interrogative approach to expressing concern, Dick responded quickly: “Injured, but bandaged. Worst on left leg. She let me go.”

Bruce pulled up short; he’d reached the tourniquet, and his fingers traced the distinctive arrow shaft.

“She what?”

“Let me go. And patched me up.” He looked him straight in the eye. “Bruce, I think she’s a good one.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew down sharply. “Dick, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that is.” _And stupid_ , was what he didn’t say.

“I know that! But she’s not like those other hunters—she’s different. I _like_ her. I think she wants to help.”

“Then why is she with Sportsmaster?” Bruce growled his name like a curse.

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted. “But I don’t think she wants to be.”

“That’s a lot of conjecture on your part,” he objected. Dick said nothing, but his mouth curled down mulishly. Bruce’s gaze fell back to the bandages on his leg, tracing them with careful fingers. “And what’s this hunter girl’s name?” he asked finally.

A grin spread slowly across Dick’s face in return. “Artemis,” he said, savoring the shape of it in his mouth.

Bruce raised a brow, but refrained from further comment. Suddenly a bird took flight, and his whole body snapped to attention. With a wary eye on the woods around them, he said, “We need to lay low for a while. Sportsmaster isn’t one to give up.”

Dick wondered just who this guy was, that he had Artemis with him and put Bruce so on edge.

“Back to Gotham?” he asked instead.

“Back to Gotham.”

Bruce crouched down in front of him, and Dick scrambled onto his back. They set off at a steady pace through the trees.

Time to go home.

\-------

Artemis backtracked slowly to the clearing where she’d left her father. It was empty, however, and the all signs indicated that both man and wolf were long gone.  She could follow…or she could wait for his return at camp.

She headed south.

About an hour later, as she cleaned and catalogued her weapons, Lawrence stalked into camp. Well, stalked as much as one could, burdened with a heavy limp and a dislocated shoulder; if anyone were to manage it though, it would probably be her father. He cast a sharp eye in her direction, but made no comment on her lack of wolf catch; she returned the favor. It looked like Dick was going to be right after all. Without a word, he sat on the other side of the fire and went to tending his injuries.

At length, Artemis asked, “Why do we hunt, Dad?”

He didn’t look up from wrapping his leg. “Because there are monsters in the world, baby girl.”

“Yes, but why do _we_ hunt? Why do we kill sometimes, but sometimes catch? What happens to them afterward? Why do we go after the ones we do but not others?”

“We go on the hunts we’re commissioned to go on.” Satisfied with his handiwork, he pulled out his largest hunting knife and set to sharpening it steadily; she couldn’t fail to notice how his reply answered exactly nothing.

“But who makes the commissions?”

“Why so many questions tonight, girl?” Artemis fought the impulse to stare at her lap.

“You’ve been training me to hunt for as long as I can remember, and you and Mom were hunters way before that. I’ve been doing this my whole life, but I barely _know_ anything. Not anything important. I want to know.”

He studied her for a time, and she felt the years of secrets and deliberate silences stretch between them.

“It’s simple, really. We’re mercenaries. We hunt for whoever pays the most.”

“But…what about protecting people?”

Her father snorted and went back to sharpening his blade. “Sure, if the money’s good enough.”

“I mean,” she tried again, “what about helping people? What about doing the right thing? Mom said—”

“What your mother said was a fairy tale. I thought you’d figured that out by now, but I guess you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

Artemis’ grip tightened on her bow as she sat, absorbing all this. _Shrrngk_ , _shrrrngk_ went his blade on the whetstone, flashing red in the firelight. (She thought of Dick, covered in blood.)

Quietly, she asked, “Is that why Mom left?”

“Your mother left because she was too weak to make it in this life.” His pace picked up, punctuating his words with vicious grinding.

Even softer: “Is that why Jade left?”

“Your _sister_ ,” he sneered, “left because she was selfish and stupid. But you’re not gonna do that to me, are you baby girl?” _Shrrrngk, shrrrngk_ went the great gleaming knife. “I’m all you’ve got left in this world.”

Artemis’ breath caught like glass in her throat; she said nothing, merely turned her gaze to the fire. The conversation dropped, and uneasy silence settled in like an old friend.

That night, she packed away her supplies neatly, not saying a word as she set up her sleeping bag as far as possible from her father. Since this was not unusual, it got no comment, and they settled in for sleep. They had only a few hours to lick their wounds and get, as ever, back to the hunt.

For a while, Artemis listened to him breathe. It rarely took him long to drift off, but in equal measure, the slightest disturbance could have him on his feet in seconds.

She would have to be very, very quiet.

Slowly she stood, gathering her sleeping bag, pack, and shoes. On stocking feet, she crept away into the surrounding forest. Just before his sleeping body drew out of view completely, Artemis turned back.

“No, you’re not,” she whispered, low and fierce, and felt better for saying it aloud.

Her mother was out there. Her sister was out there. And—she hoped—her friend was out there too.

Well, she had to start somewhere. Gotham, hometown of the damned, depraved, and uncanny, seemed as good a place as any.

It was her home too, after all.


	3. count to ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis sniffs out a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the others, but I promise Dick will be back next chapter.

The best place Artemis knew to gather information was, of course, where hunters tended to congregate—in other words, hunters’ bars. The problem there was that going to any bar her father frequented while in town increased her chances of being recognized, and left a trail for him to follow should he come looking; on the other hand, going to a place with no knowledge of the lay of the land was just asking for trouble, and could prove equally disastrous.

In the end, she decided that going in blind was still the lesser evil. Artemis tucked her hair into a green hoodie to hide her most distinctive feature, pulled on her favorite black leather jacket and most ass kicking boots, strapped as many hidden knives to her body as she could manage (which were quite a few), and selected her hunting ground.

She chose a place called The Green Arrow, if only because her father had always made a point to avoid it. Plus, she was partial to arrows.

The interior was dimly lit—probably to hide that most of the furniture had seen better days.  Conversation ebbed and flowed around her as she moved from the door, words kept at a deliberately indistinct buzz. While most weren’t obvious about it, she could feel scrutinizing eyes following her from all corners of the room. Clearly this wasn’t a place for the unwary.

Pretending it didn’t make her skin itch and her insides crawl, she headed resolutely for the bar and claimed a stool.

The bartender didn’t bother hiding his assessing gaze. “What can I get for you, stranger?” When she raised her face to return his stare, his eyebrow shot up. “On second thought, aren’t you a little young to be in a place like this?”

“Just get me a Coke if it makes you feel better, pops.” He snorted, but did so, even adding a bendy straw with a wry twist of his lips. She refrained from commenting, taking the cold glass and twisting around in her seat to study the other patrons for likely targets.

A few minutes into her careful perusal, someone approached her first. He came at her from the left, but she could smell him from three feet away.

“Hey there,” he slurred, pulling his vowels long and leering as he leaned in towards her. He flipped his long hair over his shoulder and grinned with too many teeth. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all by her lonesome?”

She wrinkled her nose and crossed her legs, but otherwise ignored him. Some hunters were just scum, and definitely not worth her time.

“Hey,” he growled. She pointedly did not respond. “Hey!” He slapped his hand on the bar, going from overly friendly to dangerously angry in a split second. “I’m talking to you!”

Before he finished speaking, Artemis pulled out the knife tucked inside her boot and drove it into the bar top, precisely in the narrow space between his pinky and ring fingers.

“Come any closer to me and you won’t be able to count to ten,” she said lowly, lightly pressing down with the sharp edge of her blade on his smallest digit. The man stood frozen, mouth gaping like a fool, and she casually took a sip from her drink without breaking eye contact.

Slowly, he raised his other hand, palm facing her, and leaned away. The glare never left his face.

“Is there a problem here?” asked a voice behind her; the bartender finally deciding to intervene.

“Not anymore,” she replied, removing her knife. “He was just leaving.”

“Like hell I am, you little—”

“Hayes,” the bartender interrupted, voice taking on a steel edge she wouldn’t have expected from him, if she still expected things from people based on appearances. “I think you’ve had enough. Time to go home.”

The man snarled in return, but the bartender crossed his arms and remained impassive. Finally, with a last withering glance at her, he turned and marched out.

Artemis slipped her knife back into her boot.

“You always cause this much trouble, kid?”

“Don’t mean to. And he started it, anyway.” She eyed him speculatively, taking a noisy sip from her drink. Stalling tactics. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh yeah? And who might that be?”

“Paula Crock.”

It was subtle, but she saw his jaw clench. “And what do you want with a retired hunter?”

So she was alive. And more than that, he knew her, or at least knew of her. Her heart beat faster in her chest, even as she tried to squash the hope rising like a tide within her.

She took a breath, then took a chance.

“She’s my mom.”

Both his eyebrows shot up this time.

“You’re Huntress’ kid?”

“What, you can’t see the family resemblance?”

He studied her face with renewed interest.

“Yeah…yeah, I suppose I can. So, you’re her kid, but you don’t know where she is?”

Her eyes dropped before she could before she could stop them, but she forced herself to look back up. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“Why’s that?”

She’d rather not say, but Artemis had a feeling this was a test, so she kept it brief but truthful.

“I was with my dad.”

“And he is…”

“Not here.”

She held his gaze, refusing to back down. After a few moments though, her spine held stiff and knuckles wrapped tight around the glass, he grinned as her. She relaxed marginally.

His fingers traced the mark where her knife had dug into the wood, and he let out a long-suffering sigh. “This is mahogany, you know.”

She snorted. “I doubt it.”

Another smile stole across his face. It made the golden facial hair around his mouth twitch. “What’s your name, kid?”

She hesitated for only a second. “Artemis.”

“Nice to meet you, Artemis.” He stuck out his hand, and she shook it with as much conviction as she could muster. “The name’s Oliver, and I think I can help you.”

 


	4. fancy meeting you here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look out, Gotham, there's Justicing to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminded to post this sucker because _apparently_ it was Rush's birthday a few days ago and somehow I missed the memo. Hopefully this helps to make up for it, my dear.
> 
> (Bonus points to those who can guess the brief cameo in this chapter~)

It was really an accident that she found him again.

Gotham, keeping with many large urban centers, was something of a hotbed for hunters, creatures, and crime—a volatile mixture for sure. If ever a city needed help, it was this one. For all her faults though, Gotham was home, and Artemis would love her till her dying day.

Which was why she was currently neck deep in hostile vampires, trying her best to bust up their trafficking supply. It wasn’t the top of the organization—frankly, she didn’t have the resources or the reckless stupidity—but a new shipment was due to arrive tonight, and she knew she could put a stop to it. If the rumors were true, these vamps dealt in both humans and weres—for slaves, but particularly for highly illegal underground fighting rings.

Yeah, no way she was letting that one slide by unchallenged.

Of course, it probably would have been smarter to bring a bit of back up. She was holding her own so far, armed with a plethora of wooden stakes, a long and wickedly sharp knife, and a jerry-rigged flame thrower in case things got _really_ hairy—but for every one she knocked down two more crowded closer, and she couldn’t keep this up forever. As it was, Artemis had reached that state of pure, mindless fighting instinct, driven forward solely on ingrained reflexes with no time to think or hesitate.

From the corner of her eye she registered two dark figures break into the melee, taking out vamps and working steadily towards her. She didn’t have time to worry about that though, not until she turned to find a new, massive form looming behind her. His hand shot out at her, but abruptly faltered; his eyes widened and for a moment they caught light from the waxing moon. Stupid of him, she was faster—but gold eyes, that wasn’t right…

“Artemis!” a voice shouted, loud enough to penetrate to her brain. A voice shouted, and she knew it. She knew that voice.

She _knew_ that voice.

Only the full extent of her father’s training allowed the girl to check herself, adjusting her momentum so that she ducked under his arm instead of impaling a stake straight through his rib cage with extreme prejudice. Instead, Artemis slammed it into the vamp directly behind him. The last one standing, as it happened.

She twisted, searching for the source of that voice—and there he was, scrawny as ever and smiling at her like a small sun. (And, she was pleased to note, actually wearing clothes this time.) Without thought, she started towards him.

Behind her, boots shifted (warily, warningly; was she imagining this?) on gravel. She froze, momentum still trying to carry her forward, while her hands hovered uncertainly between them.

Dick seemed to have no such qualms, scampering up to her eagerly.

“Artemis!” he said again, practically vibrating where he stood. “You’re okay!” He started circling her, eyes inspecting her body from blonde head to scuffed toe, and—was he sniffing her?

“I told you I would be, didn’t I?” she said, and found herself smiling back. His energy was scarily contagious. “How’s your leg doing?”

“Great!” He then proceeded to perform a startlingly rapid set of back handsprings to demonstrate, ending with an exaggerated flourish. “See? Good as new. Weres heal fast.” Not quite finished showing off, he leapt forward, rolled, and sprung to his feet again right where he started off, directly in front of her. “But you helped a lot.”

Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He twisted it so their palms were clasped together.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” she said, startled by how much she meant it, by how genuinely delighted she was to see him.

“Worried about me?” His grin turned impish, and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Only a little,” she told him archly, but ruined the image by sticking out her tongue. He wrinkled his nose at her in turn, and seemed in no hurry to go anywhere.

“I can’t believe we found you.” His fingers tightened briefly around hers.

Behind them came a pointed cough, and with a start Artemis remembered the other werewolf. Dick jumped too.

“Oh, right,” he laughed, voice going up a notch. “Artemis, this is Bruce. Bruce, this is Artemis. I told you about her, remember?”

Bruce fixed her with an appraising stare, and she fought a powerful urge to fidget.

Like he could read her mind, Dick squeezed her hand again. She straightened her back, holding the man’s gaze steadily.

Finally, he said, “What exactly are you doing here, Artemis?”

She leapt as if he’d pinched her. Releasing Dick’s hand, she spun in place, searching the shadows. There, near the gate, was the truck she’d damn well come for in the first place. Cursing herself—fucking _unprofessional_ , that’s what it was—she fumbled with the door, then threw it open.

Inside, a group anywhere between twenty to thirty people shrank away from her. Some bared their teeth, eyes flashing gold even in the dim light from outside. Some couldn’t have been much older than her.

“It’s okay,” she said, thinking of Dick, bleeding and vulnerable in the woods. “They’re gone now. You’re free.”

She stepped back, and cautiously, they emerged. She hoped they would be all right, and could find their ways home, but none of them seemed inclined to stick around in any case. One young woman looked back though, and their eyes locked; then her tall friend pulled her along, insistent and wary, and the moment was gone.

As she watched the last person disappear into the dark, Artemis felt a surge of satisfaction both warm and vicious. Let them _try_ —the people of Gotham were under her protection now.

In the meantime, an argument seemed to be under way, low but fierce, comprised largely of flailing arms and emphatic gestures (Dick), and deep frowns and raised eyebrows (Bruce). Finally, Dick glared defiantly at Bruce and marched over to her.

“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked, pulling her up short.

“Not exactly…” she replied slowly. Oliver had suggested a room above his bar, but he had already offered her so much, and she was wary of owing him more than she already did. Nice as he appeared, people always came to collect eventually. Besides, she could take care of herself.

“Do you want to stay with us?”

He seemed earnest, practically eager, eyes huge and direct as he bounced on his heels. His arms were held stiff at his sides though, fists clenched small and hard. Artemis, to her embarrassment, couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open.

“You don’t even _know_ me,” she said, because it was the first thing that fell out of her mouth.

“I know enough.” His bright blue eyes shone at her, clear as the summer sky, and this time he was the one to reach out, grasping her hand in both of his. “Come on, Artemis—pack is always better than being alone.”

She wasn’t so sure about that; just look at what she’d left behind. Artemis’s gaze slid to Bruce. He was frowning still, but when he caught her eye he nodded at her. Dick just stared at her intently, hope written in huge neon letters across his face.

Then again, it occurred to her, there was a difference between the family you were born into and the family you chose.

“All right,” she decided then and there, and Dick broke into another one of those infectious grins. With a loud whoop, he started doing cartwheels in circles around her. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the laughter that caught her by surprise.

To her astonishment, she noticed a smile tugging at Bruce’s mouth too—though, at a guess, she thought it probably had more to do with Dick’s obvious excitement than any particular happiness with the situation itself.

Artemis tried to ignore her own elation that she felt bubbling up beneath her rib cage. Happiness was a dangerous thing—it rarely lasted long, and you were only ever worse off for it in the end. For now though, she had a place, a cause, and a friend. It was more than enough.

Enthusiasm suitably displayed, her most unexpected friend planted his feet firmly on the ground and scratched the back of head, grinning bashfully.

“Hi Dick,” she said, eyes dancing. His stunned gaze snapped to hers.

“Hi Artemis,” he said back, and smiled all the wider.


End file.
